It's in the Blood
by Rydia Asuka
Summary: Richard struggles with increasing blackouts and the stress of a life he never wanted. Asbel struggles with a new job, sent almost immediately on a hunt for one of the city's most notorious criminals. Asbel wishes to protect his city and friends, among them, Richard. Richard seeks only peace for himself. Can they reconcile these goals that so drastically conflict with their lives?
1. Prologue

**It's in the Blood**

**Disclaimer:**I do not own _Tales of Graces f_. All affiliated characters are property of Bandai-Namco. No copyright infringement is intended; no profit is being made.

* * *

Blood. It was blood.

_It was blood…!_

He pressed back into—a chair? A chair. He grasped at the cushion.

Two voices. There had been _two_ voices, now there was only one… A scream, then one voice gone. What did that mean? He sobbed dryly, clutching the cushion tightly in one shaking hand.

He was not crying. He was too shocked to cry.

A loud bang. He jumped violently.

He shrank back further, all but crawling under the chair.

A groan.

The blood trickled closer.

A man crawled into view.

Blood. He was covered in blood.

The second voice appeared behind the man.

Another bang.

Darkness.

* * *

Richard Windor scrubbed frantically at his hands. The seventeen-year-old choked a soft sob, confusion riddling the features that stared back at him in the mirror. He scrubbed harder, frantic to get his hands clean. He didn't understand why they were dirty.

Why they were _bloody_.

He sobbed harder, tears trickling down his cheek to leave a ruddy trail in the coppery stain on his right cheek. He raised a hand, wiping at it. Blood flaked off, smearing across the back of his hand and leaving a trail of suds on his cheek. He wiped them away with the back of his torn sleeve.

A sound behind him made him jump like a doused cat, spinning in midair.

The door to the bathroom was still shut. Breathing heavily, he returned to scrubbing his hands clean.

_Why were they bloody_?!

Water splashed down the front of his shirt; there was blood on it. He tore it off, throwing it aside with a horrified, strangled cry. Blood. Blood, again, blood!

He stepped back from the sink. The faucet continued to hum, water gushing forth as he backed up, back thumping into the wall. His legs gave out and he sank to the floor on noodle-like limbs. Shoulders sagged and he bent forward, forehead hitting his knee.

And he cried.

* * *

"Where were you last night?"

The nineteen-year-old stood straight and defiant under his uncle's critical glare. He did not answer the question.

"Dammit, boy! Don't ignore me!" Cedric's lips were curled back in a furious scowl.

"I do not owe you an answer," Richard replied coolly, keeping his head up and purposely _not_ looking at the man before him.

"You don't…" Cedric leapt to his feet. "Look, boy, I took you in, I _raised_ you! You _do _owe me!"

"I am a legal adult, uncle. I do not."

"Bah!" Cedric threw his hands up. "You're more trouble than you're worth! Get out of my sight and pray I don't disinherit you."

"The thought is almost a relief." He turned and stalked away. He managed to duck through the doorway a split-second before he heard the shatter of expensive crystal hit where he had been standing a moment before. Taking a steadying breath, he turned and hurried away.

…the truth was, he had not answered his uncle because he did not _remember_ where he had been.

* * *

The minister droned on. Richard sat quietly in the front, staring ahead but not seeing. At twenty-one, he was now the legal head of the Windor estate. Within the day, his uncle would be six feet under and no longer able to threaten and coerce him. He was dead, and that was that.

He did not care if they never caught the man's murderer.

* * *

Richard's head throbbed. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed at his temples. He had blacked out again last night. The instances had been getting worse since his uncle died three years before, but the doctors could not find any cause. They cautioned him about stress and told him to take it easy.

And, well, he _was_ stressed. Taking over the estate meant taking over the family business.

Family business…that was one way of putting it.

His uncle had been a mafia boss, probably the most powerful in the city, and being head of the estate…meant taking over that. He was not cut out for it…and his enemies knew that. He lived every day terrified for his life. He had to seize control…or die.

But he _hated_ the business. He had never killed anyone, but people _had_ died because of him. He felt crushing guilt with each realisation of that fact.

But he did not want to die.

But he was not ruthless enough for this.

He slumped forward, head pounding as he rested it on his folded arms, blocking out the light. Not that there was a lot of that; he had shut off the light an hour ago, when the first twinges of the migraine had begun.

Why could life not be simple?

* * *

_Hello, Friends! I hope you enjoyed the prologue! If you did (or even if you didn't), I'd love to hear from you! Thanks for reading! n.n_


	2. Family Ties

_For Richass Week._

_Happy Nipants? I did a thing.  
_

_Big thank yous to Kirvee, for help with Pascal's dialogue, and Hiki, for betaing! And, of course, Nipants, without whom this story wouldn't be happening. And to everyone who encouraged me to get this out. Y'all rock. _

* * *

"Papa!"

Asbel grinned, bending down to wrap his arms around his six-year-old daughter. Scooping her up, he laughed out loud and spun around, the youngster grinning excitedly. Sophie was the light of his life.

"How was your day?" he asked, carrying her inside with a quick nod to his mother as he passed.

"Good, Papa. Me'n'Gran'ma had tea party."

"Grandma and I," he corrected gently—and when, exactly, had he become a stickler for grammar? Easy, when his two-year-old daughter had started speaking. "Did you serve Grandma yourself?"

"Noooo! Was a princess." The little one nodded emphatically. "Princess."

Sophie kept talking, outlining her day, though Asbel was only half listening as his mother poked her nose inside. Smiling to her, he nodded once. He had things here.

Meeting his smile, Kerri called out, "I'm leaving, Sophie. Come say goodbye."

"Go on," he encouraged, setting the little one down. "Give Grandma a big kiss for me."

Dutifully, Sophie ran over to her grandmother. Standing on her tiptoes, she waited until Kerri had leaned down, smooching the older woman on the cheek once she was in range. Chuckling, she pulled back. "Daddy too."

Shaking his head fondly, Asbel walked over and leaned down, pecking his mother on the cheek. "Thanks, Mom. Drive safely."

"I will. You two have a good evening, now."

"We'll try," Asbel grinned.

"Now don't forget, we're having dinner with your brother and Pascal tomorrow night."

"Seven at Guy's. We'll be there."

Kerri nodded, bending down to address Sophie. "As lady of the house, I expect you to make sure your daddy is on time."

The little one nodded, making an x-shape over her chest. "Cross my heart, Gran'ma!"

"Good." Kerri ruffled Sophie's hair. "I'm counting on you." With that, she smiled back at them once more before slipping from the house. Sophie raced onto the porch, waving frantically.

"Bye-bye, Gran'ma!"

"Bye, Sophie! I'll see you tomorrow, Sweetie!"

Chuckling from the door, he beckoned for his daughter to follow him back inside. They had a few hours to spend together before her bedtime, and he intended to make good use of that time. He had been held over at work a lot lately, and it was a relief to finally have some time to spend with Sophie. Being a single parent raising a young child was not easy.

Especially not when one worked for the police force. His department was overworked lately, too, struggling with a seemingly impossible case. He was lucky his mother was always willing to watch Sophie for him, otherwise…well, he honestly had no idea what he would do.

"Did you and Grandma have supper already?"

Sophie nodded, stating emphatically, "Cae too."

As if on cue, their calico wandered into room, undulating between Asbel's legs with a soft mewl. Asbel chuckled. "I think Caeli has another opinion on the matter."

Sophie bent down, petting the cat's thick fur. "Papa eat?"

"I will if you two saved me anything," he said, heading for the kitchen to check for the plate he knew his mother would have set aside for him.

A showing of _Oliver and Company _saw them through Asbel's supper, Sophie curled up against him on the sofa as they watched the film together. Sophie got understandably upset as she feared for little Oliver's life, calling frantically for Caeli to ensure the safety of her own cat as a crying Penny held the animated, tabby kitten.

With the movie's conclusion, he escorted his daughter to bed, tucking her in once she had brushed her teeth and changed. "I love you, Sweetie. Sleep well."

"You too, Papa." Reaching up, the little girl gave Asbel a hug, before drawing back and cupping a hand over his nose.

"What was that for?"

"Papa gets lots of hugs everywhere! His nose deserves a hug, too."

Dumbfounded, the auburn-haired man stared at his daughter, before smiling warmly and returning the gesture. "A hug for Sophie's nose, too."

"Night, Papa," she said once they had parted. "Sleep well, too. Love you."

He paused at the door, turning back to flick the light off. "I love you too, Sweetie. So much. Now get some sleep and I'll see you in the morning."

Closing the door behind him, Asbel paused in the hallway for a moment, listening for any telltale signs of a young child slipping out of bed. As usual, there were none. Sophie, it often seemed, did not have a disobedient bone in her body. Smiling to himself, Asbel headed to his own room across the hall.

Getting ready for bed himself, he crawled in, settling down to watch television for a few hours. He dozed off at some point, and was awakened by the blaring ringtone of his cellphone. Reaching out blearily, he grasped around for the offending object. Grabbing it, he slid the lock off, mumbling a sleepy greeting into the mouthpiece.

He jumped when the ringtone sounded again. Pulling the phone away, he stared at it, disoriented. The ring sounded again, this time, however, he realised the sound was coming from the floor. Half-climbing, half-falling out of bed, he staggered to his shed pants and fumbled through the pockets, eventually tugging out the second phone.

Sliding off the lock on his work phone, he held it to his ear. "'lo?"

"_It's about time you answered, Brother. I was starting to think you were ignoring me."_

"Hubert? What time is it?"

"_It's just after two,"_ his little brother admitted, _"I'm sorry to wake you, Brother, but…"_

He woke up swiftly at Hubert's tone. "What happened?"

"_Corner of fifth and main, that little pub? Someone found two bodies in the dumpster out back."_

Asbel clicked his tongue at that, frowning. "You think it was—?"

"_Reasonable suspicion, yes. Preliminary investigation tells us that it's the right signature."_

"Alright. I'm coming. I'll be there soon."

"_See you soon, Brother. Be safe."_

"I will. And you too, Hubert. See you."

* * *

Hanging up the phone, Asbel dropped back to his bed, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Sighing, he sucked in several deep breaths before standing and moving to pull on his uniform. Dressed, he went into Sophie's room. Scooping the sleeping girl up, he headed for the car. Setting her into her booster seat, Asbel fumbled for the seatbelt, eventually snapping it into place while somehow managing not to wake his daughter as he did so. From there, it was just a short drive to his mother's house.

Letting himself in, he settled the still-sleeping child into the room that had once belonged to him and his brother. Tucking her into the bed, he crept over to his mother's room. Knocking, he poked his head in, meeting his mother's bleary gaze. She nodded once, and Asbel pulled back, hurrying back to his car.

It was going to be a long night.

Hubert had felt the beginning stabs of a nasty headache coming on before he had even called his brother, and by the time he had hung up, it was in full swing. Rubbing his temples, Hubert stepped back into the alley, where a scene of organised chaos greeted him. To think that his first stunt as inspector supervisor would be on a case like this.

Officers bustled about, photographing the scene in detail, while coroners waited to retrieve the bodies as soon as the photographers and cataloguers were done. There was a smell in the air, hinting that the bodies were probably not all that new, though it was hard to tell when combined with the scent of rotting trash.

Hubert slipped under the police tape, nodding to one of the officers as he did so. Nearby, a woman was leaning over the dumpster, frowning.

"Fourier?" Hubert asked, stepping up alongside the entomologist.

"Just thinking that this is going to make my job harder, Hubert," Fourier admitted, shrugging as she stepped back. "Rodents have been at the bodies, and who knows what sorts of crap they've been into or what they're carrying."

"You didn't take this job because it would be easy, did you?"

The woman pulled back slightly, brow furrowing. "Wha—no, of course not. This one is going to be a challenge, though. Bigger than usual."

Hubert clapped his sister-in-law on the shoulder. "Well, get it done. If anyone can, it's you."

Fourier chuckled, nodding. "Naturally. Maybe this time we can get these guys and put an end to this case."

If only life could be so simple.

"Sergeant!"

Looking up, Hubert nodded to the woman who had addressed him, an Officer Jenkins. "What is it?"

"I have the preliminary report from forensics, Sir."

"Thank you," he said, accepting the document and dismissing Jenkins with a second nod. Glancing down at the pages before him, he sighed at the sight of his wife's messy scrawl covering the paper. Resigning himself to a few long minutes of deciphering what he had come to accept as her personal code, Hubert bid farewell to Fourier and made his way over to his nearby car, leaning against it.

He perused the document, taking mental note of each of his wife's comments. Pascal was thorough, if nothing else, and also smart and unbelievably sharp. He had learned the hard way what underestimating her would get him. He had never dared do so again.

Well, ultimately it seemed that the evidence all pointed to what he had both suspected and feared. What really got to him, however, was the estimated time of death. They could not know more until the autopsy reports came back, but Pascal's team's best guess was that the deaths had occurred last night. How nobody had _found_ the bodies before then…well, that was a troubling thought. It was not like this was a dump site in the middle of a forest, or something. This was a public, actively travelled road!

His headache was getting worse.

"Hubert!"

Asbel. Straightening, Hubert waved his older brother over, passing the report over the moment Asbel was in range.

"What's the verdict so far?" Asbel asked, immediately looking down to scan the papers. "I mean, do you think it's—obviously," Asbel cut himself off, "we wouldn't be here if it wasn't."

"Exactly," Hubert agreed, nodding. "It's definitely the same signature, and the evidence still points to the Windors."

Asbel frowned at that, and Hubert found himself matching the expression. "I just…don't buy it, Hubert. It seems too easy. And—"

"Let it go, Brother. Your personal feelings have no place in this."

"I know, Hubert, it's just…I know Richard. I don't think he could do this."

"Brother…"

"No, Hubert. He's—you've met him, too!"

"Meeting for two weeks at a summer camp when we were children does not constitute knowing him now. It has been nearly twenty years, Brother. You need to accept that."

Asbel sighed audibly. "Maybe…but I still…"

Hubert stepped forward, laying a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I've offered before, and I will again: Do you want to be taken off this case?"

As before, Asbel shook his head vehemently. "No. He…needs someone who believes in him."

"Very well. But do not let your personal feelings cloud your judgement in this. The evidence still points to that family, and he is the only known heir."

Asbel nodded gloomily. "I know, but—"

"No buts. The activity within that circle has _not_ stopped in the past eight years. People change, Brother."

This time, Asbel merely nodded. Good, at least his brother was listening. Truthfully, Hubert _wanted _Asbel to be right, but logic dictated that Richard Windor maintained a heavy hand in the criminal underworld. So did the evidence. If Richard was not involved, then why had the activity surrounding that family not ceased following the death of Cedric Windor eight years ago? It had hardly even slowed. Logic dictated that someone had kept control of the circle and kept it going. As the only heir, logic also dictated that that someone was most likely Richard.

Most likely, but not…not definitely, and it was for that reason that Hubert _did_ want his older brother working this case with him. One needed to examine every angle if one was to find the truth, and Asbel provided a different angle, here.

"Let's just get to work," Asbel finally said, snapping the portfolio closed and heading towards the crime scene. Hubert followed.

* * *

It was just after sunrise when the Lhants finally got away from work for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. With the Chief of Police all but chasing them off, and telling them not to return until they had at _least_ had lunch, Asbel and Hubert mutually agreed to head to a local café for breakfast before heading home.

Shaking off the rumpled jacket to his uniform, Asbel slid into one of the chairs and dropped his head onto his folded arms. Nobody said anything as the waitress poured them coffee, then headed off to place their orders—she knew what they wanted by now. This was not an unusual sight in the mornings.

"I'm getting too old for these all-nighters," Asbel groaned, glancing down at his watch. Seven-seventeen. He groaned a second time. "This is why I go to bed with my daughter."

His little brother snorted dryly, but otherwise did not comment. The same could not be said for his gregarious wife. "Aw, maybe it's time t'hang up the badge then, Asbel," Pascal teased. "Leave the hard stuff t'us younger folk."

"You're older than I am," Asbel jabbed back, looking up with a small frown.

"Yep, but still young at heart!" Pascal cheered, grinning.

Hubert scoffed, though Asbel could see his brother fighting back a smile. He could also see a sharp retort all but forming on Hubert's lips, but at that moment, Asbel happened to glance past his brother.

Another young man was seated behind Hubert, watching them with a tired expression, his eyes fixed on Pascal. Brow furrowing, Asbel stared on intently as his lips turned down in a slight frown. What was it…?

"Brother?" he dimly heard Hubert ask, and in that moment the blond stranger turned to him. Their eyes met, and Asbel stiffened.

_Richard…?_


	3. Unsettling Reunion

_Sorry about the long wait on this. I needed a little help getting motivated, but once I finally did, I wrote this baby in a little over a day. I hope you enjoy, and please, keep reviewing! (They're a big part of my motivation.)_

* * *

"Wha—?" Pascal all but yelped as she, too, caught sight of the man. "That—Richard?"

Richard's, or at least his look-alike's, eyes narrowed. The expression was so unlike anything Asbel had ever seen from his old friend that he found himself drawing back unconsciously. Maybe he was wrong? But the features—even Pascal saw it! Even had he not known Richard in the past, and admittedly that counted for little so many years later, this was still the man from the tabloids.

"Richard…is that you?" he finally ventured. He was ashamed of how his voice cracked partway through, and the hoarse note to it, but he held his gaze steady. Around them, the quiet bustle of the early morning continued. A server kicked a chair a few feet away, and two tables away, someone dropped a spoon onto his plate. He was oblivious to it all. All he saw was Richard.

The man glanced at Asbel's discarded uniform jacket, and then his gaze moved to Asbel's face. "That depends on why you wish to know," was all Richard said. The voice was right, too. As head of the city's most influential family, Richard had been interviewed countless times, and there was no mistaking that rich baritone.

"It's…it's Asbel?" he offered weakly. "Don't you remember me?"

Another, almost accusatory glance to his uniform. "I do."

"Brother—"

Asbel ignored Hubert. "I've…I missed you…"

"Did you."

Richard's flat, emotionless responses were unnerving and disheartening, but Asbel had always been too stubborn for his own good. "Well, yeah. We were such good friends, and…and…" He trailed off weakly, shrugging with a half-hearted smile.

"That was then, this is now."

"Yeah, well.."

"Asbel—"

He ignored the warning note in Pascal's tone, too. "Well, that doesn't mean we can't…"

"Is there a point to this conversation?" Richard demanded.

Asbel's eyes widened, and he glanced back to his brother, who frowned and shook his head. Ever stubborn, he turned back to Richard. "Can…we not be friends again?"

A silent glance to his uniform, and Asbel's face fell. The message was clear. Richard did not trust him; did not trust his intentions. A hand moved to rest on his elbow, and Asbel shook it off. "That's not…! Richard, that's not why!"

"Is it not?" Richard's voice was soft, but firm. "You say it is merely coincidence that you appear, wanting to rekindle an old friendship, right as the police are beginning to show a…vested interest in me and mine?"

Well, the interest had been there for years, but Asbel did not think it would do any good for him to say that. He decided to try anyway, furrowing his brows and fidgeting a bit in his seat. "I…I've _wanted_ to for a long time, Richard! I just…" He sighed, dropping his gaze. How was he supposed to explain that now it felt _imperative_ that they reunite?

He also had never had this chance. He opened his mouth to say as much, but at the moment a tall, gruff-looking blond man stepped up to them. The man was dressed in a crisp-looking suit, and sported equally-blond facial hair, neatly trimmed in the anchor style. Asbel was certain he had seen the man before.

"Sir? The limo is out front."

"Thank you, Malik," Richard replied, standing stiffly.

"Wait, Richard!" Asbel called, half-rising himself. The threat of Richard leaving made him forget all about the newcomer.

Richard turned back to him, expression once again tired. Silence descended for a long moment, and finally Richard sighed. "If you have nothing to say, I will be leaving."

"Well, I…you see…"

"Farewell, Asbel."

"Wait!" Richard did not so much as glance back. The man, Malik, tailed him out. The door clicked shut behind them.

Dropping back into his seat, Asbel sighed.

"I tried to warn you, Brother."

"Not really in the mood for 'I told you so' right now, Hubert." Resting his elbows on the table, Asbel dropped his head into his hands.

An awkward silence settled over the table, and by the time their food finally came, Asbel had little appetite remaining. Luckily for him—though perhaps luck was a matter of perspective—Pascal was with them, and she all but shovelled his food down his throat for him.

"Enough o' this depression!" Pascal finally chirped, throwing her fork down. Or maybe it was Asbel's—he did not really know at this point. "T'day should be a happy day!"

Hubert chuckled softly. "Yes. It's mother's birthday."

Asbel started. Right, that was today. Working all night had skewed his perception of time.

"I guess…we should head home and try to get _some_ sleep," he said, chuckling softly.

"That would be wise."

With that mutual agreement, they packed up. It was Asbel's turn to pay the tab, so he did so, before dragging himself to his car to head home. He had time for a few hours of sleep before it was time to go back to work…

Providing he could actually _get_ to sleep. That meeting was weighing heavily on his mind, and he did not think it would be easy to shake it and find rest, regardless of how tired he was. He had to try, though. It was going to be an exciting evening, and he wanted to be rested for it. His six-year-old demanded it.

Pulling into the driveway, he dragged himself inside and up the stairs. Kicking off his pants, he threw his jacket on a hanger, shed his belt and shirt, and fell into bed. Maybe he could sleep, maybe not, but he would not if he did not try.

* * *

Richard could not believe how much that had hurt. Seated in his chair, at his desk, he swivelled slowly to and fro, staring up at the ceiling as he contemplated the meeting earlier. His mind wholly entranced in his thoughts, making him oblivious to the sparse decorations in the room around him—he had never really taken the time to make this office _his_. It felt wrong to do so. The only thing he had done for him, really, aside from removing his uncle's things, had been to install heavy-duty, blackout shades.

The room itself was painted in a dark grey, with black footboards and black carpeting. Lighting in the room was minimal, it had been even before he had taken over, and overall the room had an eternally-dark feel to it.

Aside from his desk, two other chairs were pushed up against the wall, for use in the event of meetings. An old picture of his father hung on the wall, a stark reminder of the man who had once ruled here, and a mirror hung on the wall directly across from Richard. To allow him to see any hands wandering behind backs.

He hated the room. It was boring, it was dark…it was awful. He had not liked it during his father's reign, and his uncle had made it worse. Now…now he had the chance to fix it up, but that was not something he could do, now was it? No, he was firmly tied to this post.

Richard closed his eyes. His thoughts were in turmoil ever since he had seen Asbel again. He could not believe his childhood friend was a cop. Except…he could, of course; he had _known_ that. He had kept tabs on the brothers, ever since he had been given the means to do so eight years before, and what he had learned…

Hubert had chosen this path for himself. The younger Lhant had been aiming for the force from before Richad had started keeping tabs on them. It was hard to reconcile the cowardly boy Richard had met with the firm teenager Hubert had grown into, but Richard was, secretly, very proud of him. He had come a long way from the snivelling boy who had begged to go home from camp.

Asbel…was another story. When Richard had first tracked down details on the Lhants, it had been only months before Asbel's wedding. Back then, Asbel had had no clear goals that Richard could discern. He had simply been your average twenty-one-year-old, unsure of his path, but running headfirst down it anyway.

One thing had been clear, however, and that was his fondness for the girl, Cheria. What Richard had dug up on her had not been a comfort. Oh, not because he thought she was a bad person—in fact, it was just the opposite. She was perfect. Excellent grades, hard worker, impressive record; he could find no flaw in her anywhere, unless one counted physical disability. She was frail by nature, some sort of heart condition. It was controlled, however, and just a little over a year after their wedding, she gave birth to a healthy baby girl.

Richard…had been jealous. It was no spontaneous decision to look Asbel up. No, he had done it out of some foolish desire to reconnect with the past, one he had silently harboured for a decade. He wanted Asbel for himself, and he _knew_ that was wrong. So, upon hearing about the wedding, he had forced himself to make absolutely no effort to reconnect. It was easier to simply watch from a distance.

Safer for Asbel, too. Or so he had thought at the time, anyway.

Not two months after the birth of their daughter, Sophie, Asbel and Cheria were out on the town one evening. Why, Richard had no idea, but a young couple? It was easy enough to imagine why they might want to have a night out together. In the end, those specifics really did not matter anyway.

It had not been a crime of malice, not really. It had been a mugging, as far as Richard could tell. Nothing more had been intended, Richard suspected, except the assailant had panicked and attacked. The man had stabbed them both. Asbel had survived, Cheria…had not been so lucky. Richard did not know the specifics on that, either, but he had not needed to dig at all to hear of her passing on the news.

Richard tried to keep his own feelings out of the mix when he had learned that news—aside from, maybe, ordering the person who had done it hunted down and slaughtered. He had, however, also…seen his chance. Asbel had been such a good friend, a kind young man. He had wanted to meet him again. To reconnect at last.

And then, Asbel had joined the police academy. It was in that moment that Richard had given up hope. He could not pursue this. It had only ever been a foolish dream left over from childhood, anyway. So, he had stepped back and satisfied himself with keeping half an eye on the man. It was, he had thought, the best he could do.

Now, Asbel had found him. Over the years, the police had been closing in on him. It was one of those situations, however, where he had too much power in the city, and the police not enough, so he had been able to avoid them thus far. Occasionally, one of his people would be brought in, and he would bail them out. It was a cyclical series of events that rarely changed.

Except, now a team was focussed on _him_, and while Richard himself never committed any crimes directly, he doubted a jury would see it that way if he was ever actually taken to trial. By some sick twist of fate, Asbel and Hubert were part of that team.

In light of that, it seemed like a no-brainer to him, why Asbel would suddenly approach him. No matter how much the thought hurt, and hurt it _did_, he could not deny the logic in that thought. Asbel was coming after him to bring him in.

Richard groaned, pressing fingers to his temples as he did so. Another migraine was imminent. There was absolutely no avoiding it after today, not after that reunion. How morbidly ironic it was that after years of refraining from hunting down and reuniting with Asbel, the other man was coming for him. Too bad their intentions were so different. It would never end well.


	4. Happy Birthday

_I should apologise for taking so long to update, but first allow me to explain._

_A few months ago, a friend of mine was killed when she flipped her car on the highway. It was...a tough few weeks immediately following the accident, and to cope, I decided to write her into this chapter...just so I was /doing/ something other than crying and moping. I got about halfway through this chapter before I started second-guessing myself, and then it just started to hurt too much..._

_I didn't get the nerve up to continue it until tonight. Writing this still hurt. A lot. But I'm glad I did it, and don't regret it. And if she steals the spotlight at times, well so be it. This one's for her...and for me._

_Thank you for your patience._

_Sara, this one's for you. I'll see you in Heaven someday, but until then, you will be sorely and deeply missed. I love ya, girl. Don't stop singing._

* * *

The scent of good food hit Asbel's nostrils the moment he stepped into the restaurant. Guy's Grillhouse was not the most expensive restaurant in town, but it was…homey. On other occasions, Kerri enjoyed going out and dressing up, but on her birthday, she always proclaimed, a family atmosphere was best. Guy's had that in spades, and since Kerri enjoyed spending time with her family, it was the ideal setting for this gathering.

Ever since the death of Aston two years before, Asbel noticed that Kerri had begun valuing her family more than ever before. That was not to say that she had not before, but…well, loss tended to put some things into perspective.

That was a feeling Asbel was well acquainted with.

As usual, he and Sophie were the last to arrive. Sidling into the booth next to his mother, Asbel leaned over to kiss her cheek.

"Happy birthday, Mom."

"Thank you, Asbel. It's good to see you."

"Seven-o-one. Almost on time, Brother."

Asbel rolled his eyes. "You don't have a daughter to get ready."

"Sophie?" Hubert interjected, turning his gaze to the little girl.

Sophie nodded once. "Papa was late."

"There you have it. Sophie never lies."

"Traitor…" Asbel muttered, glaring playfully at his daughter.

Sophie wrinkled her nose. "Papa was lying."

Asbel rolled his eyes. "Stretching the truth."

"Lying."

Dramatically, Asbel clasped a hand to his chest. "Betrayed by my only, beloved daughter. What am I going to do?"

"Papa should stop lying."

The innocent statement was greeted with a round of laughter as the youngster looked on with wide eyes.

"Sophie, why don't you show grandma your gift for her?" Asbel asked once the merriment had died down.

Solemnly, the girl did as bidden, presenting a hand drawn card to Kerri. His mother accepted graciously, opening the card and, after reading it over, glancing up at Sophie with a loving smile. "Thank you, Sophie. I couldn't ask for a better gift." Inside the card was a drawing of a flower that Sophie had laboured over for nearly an hour. A long time, for a child Sophie's age. Asbel was proud of her.

At Kerri's words, Sophie beamed. "I worked hard, Gran'ma."

"I'm sure you did, Sophie."

"Heeey, y'know what you want, yet, or should I give you guys another minute?"

"Nah, I think we're good, Sara," Asbel quickly supplied. Guy's niece was a familiar face to all of them, and she was welcomed by a round of greeting from everyone at the table.

"The usual for me, thank you Sara," Hubert told her. Pascal sniggered softly. "Is there a problem?"

"Nah. Me'n'Asbel just took a bet as to whether or not you'd change it up. I won."

"I should know better than to bet against her," Asbel lamented.

"I'd think my son," a glance at Asbel, "and daughter-in-law," a glance at Pascal, "would respect me enough not to place bets on my birthday."

Abashed, Asbel glanced down at the table while Hubert chuckled softly.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with liking a dish," Sara interjected. "Not that everything we serve isn't awesome, but if Hubert wants to stick to one thing and never try anything else, who are we to judge?"

"Thank you, Sara," Hubert said stiffly. "Your support is overwhelming."

Another round of laughter filled the table, with even Kerri chuckling softly. Sophie, who didn't wholly understand the joke, simply watched with wide-eyes.

"Okay, seriously. Anyone here actually hungry, or should I tell my uncle to throw all you guys out?"

In between jokes and jibes, their orders did eventually get taken, and Sara trotted off to place their orders. While they waited for their food, Kerri was given the remainder of her presents. Sara dropped their drinks off partway through, but other than that there were no further interruptions.

"So, Pascal, are you and Hubert going to give me a grandchild sometime?" Kerri asked bluntly once the last present had been opened and set aside. For once, the young woman was clearly at a loss for words, her eyes widening slightly as her mouth opened wordlessly.

Hubert cleared his throat. "Mother, is this sort of conversation entirely appropriate?"

"Sophie would love some cousins…" Asbel supplied before his mother had a chance to respond. "Wouldn't you, Sophie?"

"_Brother_," Hubert said stiffly, cutting off a reply from the child. "Enough. You know that it isn't realistic right now."

Silence fell for a long moment, and then, "It's okay, Papa. I have Caeli." Leaning over, Asbel wrapped her in a hug. She did not understand, but that was okay. She was cute.

Eventually, their food was dropped off, and the conversation tapered off as they all tucked in. As they were finishing up, Hubert shoved his plate aside with a sigh. "Brother, about this morning…"

Asbel had known this would come up, and he dropped his fork with a sigh. "What about it?"

"You must realise after that, he is not the child you remember."

"Who isn't?" Kerri asked. "What are you boys talking about?"

"We encountered a suspect this morning, Mother. You need not concern yourself with it."

Kerri's expression hardened. "First of all, you do not tell me what I can concern myself with, Hubert. And secondly, what have I told you boys about discussing work at the table? Or on my birthday, for that matter. Leave it in the office tonight."

Abashed, the brothers fell silent. The silence was quickly broken, however, as Sara wandered back over and made herself comfortable perching on the edge of the booth next to Pascal.

"Shame on you, boys, disrupting your mother's birthday like that," the blonde teased, a bright smile on her face.

Hubert scoffed. "I hardly see how this is your business."

"It's not," Sara announced, shrugging. That did not wipe the grin off her face, however, and Hubert sighed.

"Do you not have a job to do?"

"It's slow, and you guys looked like you were about to start a war, so I said to myself, 'Sara, you'd better go stop them!' and here I am."

"I think you're exaggerating," Hubert said with a sigh. "It was hardly as bad as that."

"Maybe, maybe not. Either way, I think we need to talk about dessert."

"I don't think—"

"You don't get a say, Ms. Kerri," Sara said, grinning. "Birthday girl gets a free brownie."

"Papa, I want dessert."

Asbel chuckled. "Well, you heard Sophie. I'm up for dessert myself."

"I could go for a slice of pie."

"Apple, with a dollop o' whipped cream an' a pinch'a'cinnamon."

"Pascal," Hubert muttered, pained.

"Prove me wrong, Hu."

A long moment of silence, and then Hubert sighed. "What my wife said."

Pascal sniggered in response.

The rest of their orders were taken quickly, and Sara hurried off to place them, then returned to clean off the table. As she was working, she grinned over a stack of dishes. "So, we got a Karaoke machine last month…"

Pascal's face lit up like a Christmas Tree. Across from Asbel, Hubert sighed. "Oh, no."

"I don't think…"

"Oh, no way Kerri. You gotta sing too."

"Papa, can I?"

Asbel smiled fondly down at his daughter, ruffling her hair. "Why don't you see if grandma would like to do a duet with you?"

"What's a duet?"

"Well, it's—"

"It's when you two sing together!" Pascal chimed in helpfully.

"Oh. Gran'ma, will you do a duet with me?"

"Aww, you can't say no to that face, gran'ma!"

Kerri sighed. "Yes, thank you Sara. As I was going to say," a warm smile, "I would love to."

Once the dishes were cleared away, Sara gave them a quick tutorial as to how the machine worked, then left them to it. As promised, Kerri and Sophie were up first, with a riveting performance of _The Itsy Bitsy Spider_. Asbel could not even hope to keep a stupid grin off his face.

Why the machine happened to have that song…well, he had no idea, but both his mother and daughter got fully into it, complete with hand gestures. After, they did an encore of _Patty-Cake, Patty-Cake_.

Pascal and Hubert were up next, and the only thing Asbel would be taking any bets on there was which one sang worse. He might have to give it to Pascal—though, to her…possible credit, he was pretty sure she was trying to bad. Possibly for Hubert's sake.

He would never know.

Sophie dragged him up next, and they did a song together, before Asbel found himself abandoned. In the end, he opted for _White Wishes_, an old favourite of Cheria's. Silence fell over the group as he sang, and there was no denying the way his mother wiped her eyes when he was finished.

He had barely set the microphone aside when Sara jumped up, snatching it in one hand while laughing energetically. "My turn," she announced with a wink, before launching into an enthusiastic performance of _Happy Birthday_ that the rest of them quickly joined in on.

"Okay, now for my present to you, Kerri," the blonde announced as the song wound down. Sara selected her next song and went to it with a will.

There was always something pleasing about listening to Sara sing, she did so with such energy and passion. As the last notes died out, she dipped a mock bow, grinning. "Thank you, thank you. I'll remember you all when I'm famous."

She looked up with a wink. "Now get outta my store. We're closing."

"Of course, Sara. Thank you for the wonderful evening," Kerri said, drawing the girl into a hug. The rest of them echoed the sentiment, and then they were parting, heading their separate ways.

"Papa?" a sleepy Sophie asked as he settled her into her car seat.

"Hm? What is it, Sophie?"

"When is my birthday?"

He chuckled, shutting the door and climbing into the driver's seat. "Not for a few months, Sophie."

"Oh." Silence. "Will Mama be there?"

Asbel's breath caught. "Sophie…"

"I'm…sorry, Papa."

He sighed. "It's okay, Sophie." She still did not fully understand why she did not have a mother.

The rest of the trip home passed in silence, Sophie dozing off less than halfway there. Carrying her inside, Asbel tucked her into bed before heading for his office to peruse his files. Having slept a good portion of the afternoon away, he had a lot to catch up on before he got any rest.

* * *

It was late into the night when Asbel finally threw the folder aside, a dull headache throbbing behind his eyes as he leaned over the desk, elbows resting on the surface and face buried in his hands. Despite his ideologies, his beliefs, Asbel could see the evidence for what it was as clearly as anyone else.

For years, the Windor family had run this city from behind the scenes. Wealth, power, connections…they had it all. The money to bribe out corrupt officers, the power to threaten those they could not buy out, and the…assistance to actually enforce those threats.

Cedric Windor had been a plague on the city, all but running its underground single-handedly, and powerful enough to keep the police at bay; nobody challenged him if they liked their head where it was. After his death, however, things had…changed. Richard had taken over, and the young man had not possessed the murderous streak of his uncle.

Or, that was Asbel's opinion on the situation, anyway. The family had lost some…respect within the underground circles, and thus was losing influence. Oh, they were still very much a source of power, but it was not like it had been. Officers investigating the family did not disappear with quite the same frequency.

It was because of that the Asbel was convinced Richard was more a puppet, a figurehead, than the perpetrator.

There was…one other detail that could not be ignored, however. For the past twelve years, bodies had been turning. Some, John and Jane Does with no noticeable connection to the case at hand, others, people who blatantly defied the Windors, and still others whose connection to the family seemed unlikely, but not impossible. They all shared one detail, however, and after over a decade, the MO could hardly be ignored: They were all shot in the back of the head while kneeling, facing away from their killer.

Asbel did not like to think about what that meant, but there was absolutely no denying that one detail. It not only indicated that the killer was likely the same person for all the murders, it was also the same way Richard's father had been killed.

Asbel was certain that someone was framing Richard. Nobody could be that stupid, to basically paint a flag on oneself saying 'here, I am the killer'. It was just too _easy_. If only Hubert agreed. Asbel would keep believing in him, however, even if nobody else did.

His head dipped lower as he turned the evidence over in his mind, eyes drifting closed as he nodded off. This was too much to think about now…

Asbel jerked back to full wakefulness, his head shooting up and smacking his desk light, when his phone rang. Rubbing the back of his head, he fumbled for his phone, unlocking it clumsily.

"Hello?" he said behind a stifled yawn.

_Brother, you have to see this. I'll text you the location._

The dial tone met his ear a moment later, and Asbel pulled his phone away from his ear, blinking at it sleepily. It lit up a moment later, Hubert's text message flashing on the screen.

Another sleepless night, then.

* * *

He arrived at the scene barely twenty minutes later. The moment he entered the room, Asbel nearly gagged, the scent of blood overpowering. Holding a hand to his nose, he grimaced as he surveyed the room. It was sparsely furnished; a threadbare chair, an old, moth-eaten rug, and a television stand with nothing on it. That was hardly the highlight of the room, however.

"Shot in the back of the head?" Asbel asked tiredly, to which Hubert nodded.

"But that's not all."

Asbel snorted. "I noticed."

The crime scene was the worst one Asbel had ever personally been on. A massive pool of blood covered the floor, with more painting the walls and furniture. The body hung, pale and lifeless, from the room's light fixture.

"Cause of death was the gunshot?" Asbel asked.

"We're assuming so, but forensics is taking a look anyway. Given this scene…exsanguination cannot be ruled out."

"What did all this?" Asbel asked, approaching the body. On closer inspection, lacerations covered the body, the most noticeable of those being on the victim's bare feet. Congealed blood covered the bottom, and Asbel leaned in for a closer look.

"Was she…?"

"Totally exsanguinated? Again, forensics needs to take a look, but it looks that way."

"Whoever did this was angry."

"I just hope she was dead before this as done."

"Judgin' by the way she's hangin', I'd say probably. The perp used gravity t'get the blood out, since the heart had stopped."

Glancing over as Pascal, Asbel nodded. "That's what I was thinking."

"There's something else you need to see, Asbel," Hubert said, waving him away from the body. Steeling himself, Asbel followed with trepidation.

"What's this?" he asked as they stopped in front of the bloodstained back wall. Now that he was taking a closer look, he realised the stains seemed to form an image; they weren't simple spatter.

Pascal followed them over, shaking her head. "It's Greek."

"A letter?"

"Lambda."


	5. Trust

_Happy birthday to me! In celebration, I have a present for you. Enjoy. :3_

_Thank you Final Hikari, for help with editing and dialogue! _

* * *

**Chapter Four: Trust**

Try as he might, Richard could not get the meeting with Asbel out of his mind. He could hardly fault himself for that, considering his feelings, but it was still very frustrating. He wanted to see Asbel again, and perhaps…give his old friend a real chance. He had shut down the idea of rekindling their friendship without even entertaining it, but now that he had the chance to turn it over, it was all he could think about.

It also brought to mind things he had wanted for years, but never allowed himself.

After several days of dwelling on the issue, Richard realised that this was not something that would simply go away if left on its own. He could not stop wondering if maybe…they could be friends again. However, while Asbel had claimed no malicious intent towards him, how could Richard really _believe_ that? How could he trust him?

Trust. What a loaded word. People always expected the privilege of trust, but refused to take the time, or expend the effort, to truly _earn _it. Besides that, if you did not trust a person already, how could you let that person close enough to earn your trust in the first place? It was a paradox, and one he had no inclination to work towards remedying. People, he had learned, were not worthy of his trust. It was an attitude that had brought him this far, and thus he saw no reason to change his stance on the matter.

…except, Asbel. As children, he recalled, he _had _trusted the other boy. His family's lifestyle had made him wary, even as a child, but Asbel's straightforward nature and honest demeanour had won him over despite that. Those were traits that still seemed to be present in the man that had once been the boy. It was hard not to simply fall back into old habits. Hard not to, but impossible to do. It was like his life was one enormous paradox that was spreading him too thin. He knew, however, that he would not be at peace until this matter was laid to rest.

Mind made up, he knew what he had to do. Most Wednesdays saw Asbel seeking lunch at a local café, down the street from the precinct. The place did not see too much business, and Asbel usually took lunch there alone, according to his sources. It would not hurt to simply talk.

…and worst case scenario, he might learn something.

* * *

Asbel enjoyed taking lunch at the Ymir Café on Wednesdays. Another restaurant down the block had Wednesday specials, and the filtered a lot of the traffic away from here, leaving it quiet; a good place to think. The atmosphere was pleasant, with the walls painted a deep brown, leafy trees running up them and across the dusty blue ceiling. The tables were spaced well apart, giving the illusion of privacy, and all of the furniture had been expertly carved to add to the woodsy feel of the building.

Currently, he was drinking his coffee and pouring over old notes. The most recent killing had the paparazzi in an uproar, and it was all the top brass could do to keep the media from exploding over the matter and plastering confidential case details across half the city. The latest development in the case changed the signature, and so the team was currently reviewing the details. Was it the same person? They needed to ascertain that fact before they proceeded. If this case was unrelated to theirs, then they needed to pass it off to another team to tackle. Hubert was convinced it was related to their case, however, and Pascal had thrown around theories of stressors and other psychological terms that Asbel did not understand. Whatever the case, it was still a murder and therefore needed to be solved.

The door's bell rang, but Asbel did not so much as glance up. There was something in the report that was tickling the back of his mind, but he could not quite put his finger on it. It was bothering him, however, and given the importance of the situation, he was determined to figure out what it was.

"Ready to get something to eat yet, Asbel?"

His head jerked up, a confused look. Then he chuckled. "Raine, sorry. I was distracted."

The young woman waved him off. "It's fine. Just get something soon, or else I'll have to kick you out."

Raine was a terse woman, but nice enough once you got to know her. She was working here, at her family's café, to pay her way through graduate school. She was also brilliant, and an excellent source of advice.

He raised his coffee. That counted. "I'm missing something." He could not tell her the details, of course, but luckily he did not have to.

"Why do you think that?"

"It's my gut. It's telling me there's more to this."

Raine paused, clearly thinking. "I know you follow your gut a lot, Asbel, and that's served you well before, but maybe Hubert's right this time. You are close to the case—are you absolutely certain you're missing something, or do you just _want_ there to be something missing?"

He frowned at her hidden implications. _Was_ he blocking something out? Perhaps something that might implicate Richard more? He did not know. He did, however, acknowledge that Raine might have a point.

"I'll bring you something."

"Thanks, Raine," he said with a weak smile. Looking back down at his notes, he sighed and slammed the portfolio shut. He needed to clear his head.

"Asbel."

He had to be going crazy. Looking up again, he gaped openly at the man before him. Richard, for it was he, merely sighed.

"May I sit?"

"I don't know, can you?" he blurted out stupidly. Years of correcting Sophie's grammar acted before his brain, and he found himself blushing. "I mean…yeah, go ahead. Sorry. Sophie."

Richard's face was expressionless as he settled into the seat across from Asbel. They stared at each other for a long moment before Asbel found his voice again. "Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?"

"I do not know, can you?"

The words were spoken in such a monotone that it took Asbel a moment to realise that Richard was…joking with him? There was no smile on his face, no mirth, but that had _definitely _been a joke.

…he thought.

"Uh, I mean…you want anything?"

"Earl Grey tea would be nice."

Asbel nodded, standing. "Anything to eat? They make good brownies. Or—oh, I know! The scones are good. Blueberry? You like blueberry, right?"

Something that might have been amusement flickered across Richard's face. It was gone as quickly as it came, however, leaving Asbel wondering if he had only imagined it. "That will suffice, thank you."

Asbel hurried to the counter, placing the order and waiting. Raine sent him a look as she set down his sandwich, but he stubbornly shook his head. Now was not the time. What was Richard _doing_ here? After their last meeting, to just _appear_ here? It was absurd! There had to be more to thi—

Or did there? He was thinking like his brother, now, looking for motive in everything. Maybe Richard just wanted to say 'hi'. Could that not just as easily be it? They were old friends, and maybe Richard had rethought his stance and decided they could be friends again. Asbel had to admit that he hoped that was it. If he could get close to Richard again, maybe they could put this behind them _and_ get to the bottom of whoever was framing Richard!

Their food was handed to him, and Asbel took the tray, carrying it over and setting it down on the table. He tried not to see the way Richard sniffed the food, eyeing it thoroughly before taking a bite. He would also try not to be offended.

"Like it?" he asked, suddenly entirely uncertain what to even say.

"It is adequate."

Apparently, compliments were hard to come by from Richard these days. They ate in silence for a few minutes before Asbel found he could no longer stand it.

"Richard…"

"Why am I here?"

"Yeah, about that…"

The blond sighed, setting down his mug. "Allow me to explain. I have…given some thought to your proposition." His 'proposition'? He had asked to be friends, not for a business deal! "And I may have been hasty in my refusal."

Oh. Really? He had actually been right? The surprise must have shown on his face, because Richard shook his head.

"If the offer is retracted, I und—"

"No!" he cut in hastily, waving his hands. "No, it's not—I'm just—this is—!" He took a deep breath, visibly collecting himself. "This is just a surprise. A good surprise, but still…a surprise. I'm glad, though. I've missed you. I mean, I know were only hung out for the one summer, but I sorta hoped we might be able to meet up again after. I just didn't know how to get hold of you, and my dad didn't really want me…" He trailed off, breathing slightly heavily from the tirade. What was he, twelve?

"It is fine, Asbel. I had much the same thoughts and difficulties," Really? "else I would have contacted you long ago."

That was interesting to know. "Why didn't you? After…you know."

Richard sighed. "There is much you do not understand, Asbel, and I had no desire to drag you into any of it."

"What's changed?" he asked, suddenly even more curious. Why this? Why now? Hubert's warnings wormed their way into his mind, and he stubbornly tamped them down.

"…we spoke, and you confirmed that you also wished to speak more. So, I have come to do just that." Richard frowned. "I am aware this will likely not work out, however…"

"Stop. Stop it, Richard. You want to be friends again. I do too. What's so hard about that?"

"Asbel, your naïvety is almost endearing."

His brow furrowed, and he stared over at the other man. "Richard?"

"I do not mean that to be an insult. I simply…wish I could view the world as innocently as you."

"Oh. But Richard, why do you think this is so hard? It's what we both want, isn't it?"

"I am…not certain of that. Regardless, it is not as though we can pick up where we left off."

Asbel understood what Richard was saying, what he meant, but he wanted to deny it. Richard was right, though. There was a lot for them to overcome before they even considered the idea of being…friends. For one, their respective jobs; the city was not likely to look kindly upon any sort of contact between the two of them that was not of the arresting variety. Secondly, there was years of growth and separation to overcome. As much as Asbel wanted to see his old friend back…that had been a boy. This was a man grown.

"What…can we do, then?"

"I am not suggesting we do anything." Richard sighed, a hand coming up to rub his forehead. "Asbel, I fear you may be reading too much into this. I came here to talk…because I wished for us not to be on bad terms. I am _not_ looking for a companion to see the latest movie with, or to go out for a night of drinks and pool. I simply felt you deserved more than I gave you the other day."

"I…understand, Richard. I just…" Those words hurt. Maybe he _had_ been reading too much into things, getting himself worked up for nothing, but still, he had hoped for more than that. "I'm glad, though. I'm glad you came to tell me that, at least. I thought…I thought I'd done something to make you hate me. I went and joined the force after my wife was murdered, Cheria, because I wanted to stop that from happening to someone else's wife. I just…I didn't think it would push us apart like this. I get it, though. Promise me that you know my being an officer has _nothing_ to do with you, though. Please."

Silence fell for a long moment, and Asbel began to fear that Richard was going to brush him off. Then, "I…I understand, Asbel. I do apologise for saying those things. I was…hesitant to reach out again."

Asbel stared down at his plate, the remnants of his sandwich sitting silent and cold, as he searched for words. There had been more truth, more honesty, in those few words than he suspected he had heard from Richard in years.

"I understand, Richard. I wasn't mad, just…"

"I hurt you. I am truly sorry for that."

Asbel fidgeted with his mug. "You should come meet Sophie sometime," he blurted out before he could rethink the offer. "My…my daughter. Sophie is my daughter."

Richard looked away, and Asbel was certain he was going to be rejected. It had been a stupid offer, anyway. They both knew they could never really…be friends again. Right? They had jobs that just did not mesh.

"Asbel, I am sorry, but…"

"I…you're right. I'm sorry. Forget I said anything."

Richard nodded. "I am glad we had this talk, but I should be going," he said, standing.

Reluctantly, Asbel stood too, holding out one hand. "It was good seeing you."

Richard offered a small smile as he took the hand, shaking firmly. "You also, Asbel. Take care of yourself."

"You too."

This time when the door bell chimed, Asbel found himself unable to tear his gaze away.

* * *

Richard kicked the door to his office closed, and all but fell against the wall. His head was pounding, and he clenched one fist, pressing it to his forehead as he willed the waves of pain to pass. Outside, he heard a knock, Malik calling to him, but the sound seemed as though someone else was hearing it. His mind just could not seem to process it enough to form a response.

He stumbled forward, falling into his desk chair. He fell forward, head hitting the desk, and knew no more.


	6. Murder

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair.

_It wasn't fair!_

She punctuated each thought with a hack from her machete. Why did _she_ have to suffer like this? Why just her? It wasn't fair!

She would make them suffer, too.

It was dark, the middle of the night, and she was in a dim alleyway. The shadows pressed in around her; the air felt oppressive and stifling. And it stank of blood and urine.

The gun she had used to kill the man sat at her feet. Instead she now favoured the blade, and was using it to hack his leg off. Blood flew up on the recoil, joining the other droplets painting her face in macabre tattoos of red.

Again she hit.

Again.

Again!

A noise in the distance. Her head came up, listening. Sirens. Sirens!

Grabbing her gun, she turned and fled, leaving the dismembered body behind. On the wall above the body, thin tendrils of blood slowly trickled down the plaster from the letter written there:

λ

* * *

Asbel wanted to vomit. If the last crime scene has been bad, this one..._this one_ was the stuff of nightmares in comparison. He felt the urge to run home to his daughter and never look back.

"This is the freshest we've ever seen a scene." Pascal's face was grim, none of the playfulness that was so common to her present in her tone. "Makes me wonder how much we missed the perp by."

"How..." Oh, spirits, he felt nauseous, "how fresh?" He was trying so hard not to look. There were body parts _just laying there_, and...!

"Body's still warm."

He turned to the wall, not the bloodied one thankfully, and rested one palm on it, head bowed as he fought the bile in his throat. Oh, Spirits, if they had been just a little faster...!

"Don't think like that, Asbel. We were called because of the gunshot. He was dead when the call came in."

"Hu's right. Killed execution style, same as all the others. Judging by the blood pattern, I'd say definitely before the dismemberment."

"This conversation is not helping," he muttered.

"No, but it is called work." Hubert's tone softened. "If you need to sit down, Brother, there's no shame in that."

"I...think I will."

Heading to his car, Asbel pulled the door opened and sat down. He could not believe how bad the crime scenes were getting. And...why? Why was it suddenly getting to be so much worse? He was not certain he could stomach it.

He sat in silent contemplation for several minutes, until Hubert's voice intruded upon his thoughts. "Asbel, you need to come see this."

Cautiously, he stepped back out, following his brother to the body once more. It had been moved slightly, revealing a pool of blood and urine...and a pair of prescription glasses.

"Richard doesn't wear glasses," Asbel insisted immediately. Hubert sighed.

"Not that we know of, no. This could be a trick to throw us off...but we also cannot ignore that it might not be," Hubert continued before Asbel could protest. "It might simply be carelessness from fleeing the scene too quickly. Or, it might also be an imitator. That mark is back."

"We got an impression of the footprints, Pascal," one of the researches said, hurrying over.

"Good, get 'em back to the lab. We got a long night ahead of us, boys!"

"Hubert?" Asbel asked, glancing at his brother.

"Let's leave the rest to forensics. We have enough to go over to keep us busy until then."

Without a backward glance, Asbel followed his brother back to the squad car. It was going to be a long night. Nothing new, there.

* * *

"Asbel, Sweetie? What are you doing here?"

His head came up quickly as Asbel was startled awake by his mother's voice. Blinking sleep from his eyes, he looked down at the table in front of him, where his case notes were scattered all over.

"Oh, uh...I wanted to be here to take Sophie to school. I've been," he paused to yawn, "so busy lately. I miss her."

Kerri smiled. "How about you two have breakfast together, then I'll take her while you nap."

"...okay, Mom," he relented after only a moment of thought. He was tired. "I'll go get her up."

Breakfast was a pleasant affair, the presence of his daughter lifting some of the weight the past few hours had left on Asbel's shoulders. Once they had eaten, he did as promised and laid down on the sofa, dozing off until noon, when Kerri woke him for lunch. Then, it was back to work.

He did not last long. The heavy material was haunting on his mind, and he could not stop thinking about the strange encounter with Richard the day before, either. Before long, he wandered away, finding himself drawn to the old photo albums. Finding the one he sought, he sat down, cross-legged on the floor, and opened it.

Most of the photos were of himself and Hubert as children. The first day of school, Christmas morning, birthdays...but there, in the book near the back, a few that had been taken at summer camp that year.

The very first photo was himself and Hubert, standing by the entrance. A few photos in, and he came across one he was looking for. He was standing by the pool, wearing his uniform but soaked to the skin. To his left, a young Richard stood, clearly fighting back a laugh. He recalled the incident well. He had been walking by the pool when he had seen what he _thought_ was another kid fall in. He had run inside and jumped into the pool without a second thought...only to discover that the splash he had seen was caused by a pool toy being blown into it.

Richard had laughed until he nearly cried.

After that photo, more came. One of them learning to draw bows, another of them after a food fight had broken out in the mess hall, still another of them at the campfire, roasting marshmallows.

"What are you looking at?"

He looked over, greeting his mother with a warm, if tired, smile. "Just some old pictures."

Kerri peered over his shoulder, a small smile on her lips. "I remember that boy. He was all you talked about after you two came home. Honestly, you were so excited about him, your father feared you were gay."

Asbel sputtered. "M-mom!"

"Well, you were very...enthusiastic about him, dear. Frankly, I didn't share your father's doubts."

"You didn't?"

"I was quite certain."

He sputtered again. "Mom!"

"Tell me I'm wrong."

He had to admit...it was true. He _had_ had quite the crush on Richard back at the camp, and for quite a while after. It had faded with time, but he still found the other man more attractive than was reasonable.

"Well, I don't...maybe you're..." He trailed off, sighing. "Okay, fine. But if you knew, why…?"

"You seemed happy with Cheria, so I saw no reason to bring it up." She smiled sadly, staring down at the photograph. "Though I'm relieved your father kept you two apart. That boy is..."

Asbel sighed. "I know. Hubert says the same thing. But I can't believe it. Not Richard. He was so..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "That killer isn't him, Mom. I know it's not."

Kerri was silent for a long moment, but finally she smiled at him. "Okay, Asbel. If you're so certain, I'll believe that maybe it's not. But don't let your feelings blind you either. That's my advice as your mother."

He let a weak smile grace his lips. Then he chuckled softly.

"You really knew all along?"

"Of course. A mother watches her children, and you often looked at boys like you did girls. Between that and your infatuation with Richard, I was pretty sure."

"You don't mind?"

"Of course not, Asbel, you're my son and I love you no matter what."

"I love you too, Mom," he said, reaching up to hug her. It was willingly returned, and somehow he felt just a little bit better.

* * *

"We've been workin' too hard!"

"Pascal, that is hardly..."

"No way, Hu. We've all been slavin' away, and it's finally the weekend! I vote we hit the town tonight. It's Saturday night. Let's go!"

Asbel chuckled, setting aside his paperwork. "I'm going to have to agree, Hubert. Let's go out." It had been a long week, and next week promised to be worse. They deserved a few drinks and some dancing.

"Oh, very well."

"Yahoo! Ravenwood, tonight at eight, meet us there, Asbel."

"I'll be there," he agreed, "just let me drop Sophie off with mom and get ready."

They parted ways a short time later, and Asbel hurriedly got ready. He collected Sophie from her friend's house, dropped her off at his mother's, then dressed. It was nice to look forward to a night out with his brother and sister-in-law.

Ravenwood was a cozy place. The building was typically kept dim, with redwood furniture, carved in a rugged style. It was run by a middle-aged man, who had opened it after retiring from the military. A laid-back fellow, he greeted Asbel with a wave.

"Haven't seen you in a while, Kid."

"Yeah, the case has been keeping us pretty busy, Raven," he said, dropping into a stool at the bar. A glass of brandy appeared before him without comment. "I guess Hubert and Pascal aren't here yet?"

"Haven't seen 'em. That's a first."

Asbel huffed at the teasing. "I can be on time!"

"Nobody's sayin' ya can't," Raven retorted with a friendly wink, "just that ya typically _aren't_."

He scowled, taking a sip of his drink. As he did so, the door behind him jingled, and he looked up, expecting to see his family. It was not them, however the man was still familiar. Rugged blond hair, with a thin line of facial hair down hia jaw and chin.

"You're...!" he said, jumping up.

The man, Malik if Asbel remembered his name correctly, stared at him for a long moment. Then he turned and headed back out the door.

Asbel was on his way to the door before he had a chance to think it over.

"Raven! Tell my brother I'm sorry, but I had to run. Put the drink on my tab!" He did not hear the response, if there was any, because he was already out the door.

The blond man waited a few feet away, holding open the door to a glossy, black limo. Asbel hesitated, suddenly feeling nervous about his decision to follow the man out here.

He tamped down on it and strode to the limo. This man was Richard's bodyguard, and if he really trusted Richard, as he claimed, this would not be an issue.

He got in...and there was Richard, seated across from him and dressed in finery Asbel could never hope to afford. An expensive black suit with a blue tie and immaculate white dress shirt, accented by a gold watch and shiny shoes, none of which AsbeL could ever hope to even name a brand for, never mind afford. His talk with his mother two days before crept into his mind, and a soft blush crept up his neck.

Richard really did look _good_. His own black dress pants and blue shirt looked downright tacky in comparison.

"Asbel, I apologise for stopping by so abruptly," Richard said, meeting his gaze calmly. "However, I..."

Asbel sat down across from him, trying and failing to ignore the posh interior of the vehicle as he did so. "Richard?" he prompted gently.

"I have been thinking about your offer, and...I wish to accept it, on some conditions."

Asbel's eyes widened, but he hurriedly nodded. "What are they?"

"You tell no one. Your brother and...coworkers are wary of me. It would look badly on both of us. I will also keep silent. Secondly, you ask me nothing about my...profession. In turn, I will ask you nothing about yours. Lastly, we avoid unnecessary attachment. This may not work out, and I wish for that to be kept in mind."

"Deal," he said immediately. Those terms seemed more than reasonable.

Richard looked surprised for a moment, though Asbel could not fathom why, but the blond quickly recovered. A hand was extended, and he shook it readily.

"So...uh, I've never had a professional...friendship before," he said awkwardly, scratching at his head. "What do we do from here?"

Richard's lips quirked in a faint smile. "We go out."


	7. Date Night?

After a full three minutes—Asbel counted—of awkward silence, the young officer finally dared ask, "So, where are we going?"

"There is an art exhibit uptown this week. I thought we might attend."

Asbel blinked. He had not exactly known what he expected...but it was not that. "An...art exhibit?"

Richard's expression did not change, but something in his next words told Asbel he might be...nervous? "Was that not an appropriate choice? If you would prefer something else-?"

"No! No, it's okay, Richard!" he quickly assured. "I've just never been to one. Am I...do I look okay? I wouldn't want..."

"You look fine, Asbel."

And he was not blushing at that. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he sputtered, "Okay. If you say so, Richard."

They lapsed into another awkward silence for a while, as though neither really knew what to say. Asbel tried to start conversations on a few occasions, but each time the words shrivelled up and died on his lips. He did not want to bore the man, and if Richard was content with silence...

"Tell me about Sophie."

The request was a surprise, but Asbel was more than happy to oblige. The rest of the drive passed quickly, with Asbel enthusiastically sharing stories about his daughter. This eventually devolved into stories about Hubert, and then into reminiscing about their shared summer at camp.

"No, I am absolutely certain you did that," Richard was saying, lips quirked in the faintest hint of a smile. "It was after supper one night, you-"

The memory came back, and Asbel felt a blush creep up his cheeks. "I think you're exaggerating. I didn't...!"

"Sir? We've arrived."

Asbel jumped as Malik's voice sounded back over the intercom, then quickly tried to cover it up by looking out the window. There was not much to see from here, just the path to a large, well-lit building.

"Thank you, Malik.

"Shall we, Asbel?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, let's go."

They left the vehicle, and Asbel got a better look at the building they had come upon. Broad stairs led up to an arched entranceway that was supported by thick columns. The whole exterior was well lit, and bright windows suggested that the interior was just as well illuminated.

He followed Richard inside, trying not feel too out-of-place amongst these rich people. That proved impossible, because the inside was even more impressive. Marble pillars supported the massive ceiling, where countless chandeliers provided the brilliant illumination he had seen from outside.

Interspersed throughout the pillars...was the art. Admittedly, this was not Asbel's area of expertise, but what he saw looked pretty impressive. Usually, when he thought about art, he thought paintings. That was not the case. Sculptures, statues, paintings, poems...it was all featured, plus more besides. He felt like he could spend days in here and not process half of what was on display.

The people were just as interesting. It seemed that the opening night had attracted a large and diverse crowd. He saw dresses, skirts, suits, over there a man in a tuxedo, over in the corner a man wearing a skirt, crouching with a guitar...or maybe that was a display? He was not entirely certain.

Richard, it seemed, knew quite a few of the attendees. They greeted him by name, though the blond did not seem interested in stopping for extended conversation. They kept moving further in, Asbel admiring the displays as they walked.

A sudden giggle made him stop dead, just in time to avoid tripping over a young child who darted out in front of him. The boy looked up at him, wide, scarlet eyes watching curiously.

"Where are you parents, little guy?" he asked, crouching down.

"Lloyd!"

The boy giggled and ran off again. Before he got far, Richard had bent and scooped him up.

"Are you running from your father again, Lloyd?"

The little one pouted. "No, 'ichad. 'm good boy!"

"Are you now," Richard said with mock seriousness. "Well then, I suppose you won't mind leading us to your parents."

The little one squealed, trying futilely to squirm free. After a moment, a short brunette woman hurried over. "Lloyd, are you causing Mister Richard trouble again?" she scolded, stopping with folded arms.

"Yeah mama!"

Asbel chuckled at the blunt statement. Lloyd succeeded in getting free at last, slipping from Richard's arms and running to his mother.

"That's my little rapscallion," the woman said, scooping him up and rubbing the boy's nose with her own.

"It takes one to know one, Anna." Asbel turned around as a tall man walked up. "You spoil him too much."

The woman, Anna, chuckled. "He's just playing. And Richard is a friend."

"Yes, but running around the exhibits is no place for a boy his age. He should be-"

"-home in bed. Honestly, Kratos, you sound like a broken record. This is mommy's big night, and I wanted him to celebrate with us."

Despite his stern tone, Asbel could see a lingering smile on the man's lips. Behind unruly, auburn locks, his eyes bore a playful twinkle, also, as though this was old banter between them.

"Richard, it's good to see you," Anna said at last, clearly determining that she had won the argument. "Who's your friend?"

"Uh, Asbel. Asbel Lhant. It's nice to meet you," he said, shaking her hand.

"The pleasure is all ours, Asbel. I'm Anna Aurion, the walking stone is my husband, Kratos, and the little terror is our son, Lloyd."

"What brings you here?" Kratos was asking Richard.

"I received an invitation as a sponsor. I thought it only polite to attend."

"And you?"

It took Asbel a moment to realise that Kratos was speaking to him. "Oh, well, Richard invited me. It sounded like fun, so..."

"No fun!" Lloyd chimed in, sulking from where he had been moved to his father's arms.

Anna chuckled. "I don't know about fun, but it is enjoyable."

"Why are you here?" he asked the small family.

"Anna has a piece in the exhibit," Richard volunteered, before turning to Anna. "Where is it, if I may ask?"

"Just over here. Follow me," she said, leading them around one pillar, to a display along the wall.

"This is very good, Anna," Richard commented, approaching the display and studying it with a keen eye.

Asbel was no genius at art, but he thought it looked pretty cool. A large board had been hung on the wall. On one side, a painting of the world was done in brilliant detail. On the other, a mirror image of Earth stood, rising from the board, turning into a three-dimensional representation of the planet.

At the junction between the two worlds, the oceans ran red, however, and after some careful examination, Asbel noticed several other marks of crimson staining both the painting and model.

Around the top and sides of the board, weapons of all types, spanning eras of humanity, bristled. The bottom was painted with brilliant flames. All-in-all, it was interesting to look at, but...

"I call it _Two Worlds_," Anna supplied. "It's a representation of the cyclical, futile nature of war. No matter how much we fight and part, humanity will always find another reason to take up arms again. It's up to us to rise above that and make an effort to change. We're the only ones who can," she said with a wry smile. "We need to learn."

Asbel nodded, glancing at Richard with a small smile. "It's really good. You're very talented."

Anna scoffed. "You think this is good, come see this..."

Asbel followed, glancing to Kratos as the man muttered a short, "Do not sell yourself short, Anna..."

Despite his lack of understanding with regards to a large number of the displays, it turned out to be an interesting evening. The Aurions called it an early night, taking their son home to bed. Afterwards, he and Richard wandered the grounds, speaking to some of the artists but mostly spending time alone, walking in silence for the most part.

The buffet was also splendid, Asbel perhaps helping himself to more than his fair share. Richard kept having him taste wines, many of which were far beyond Asbel's taste pallet, but he found he could not say no to Richard as the blond almost eagerly presented him with each new flavour. All things considered, the faint buzz he carried was far less than he would have experienced had he stayed at the bar.

It was not until well into the night that Richard led them back to the limo. Graciously, the blond held the door open for him, and Asbel thought nothing of it as he ducked inside, flopping onto the seat decidedly ungraciously.

Asbel buckled himself in as Richard settled into the seat next to him—hadn't he sat across before? He glanced at the blond.

"Oh, have I overstepped myself, Asbel? If you would prefer..."

"It's fine, Richard," he assured. "It's your limo."

"That is not reason enough—if this makes you uncomfortable—"

Asbel shook his head. Staring down at his hands, he chuckled awkwardly. "Would it be weird if I said I'm glad you sat next to me?"

There was a delayed pause, and Asbel was a heartbeat from apologising for the forward statement, when his friend finally replied, "I...am glad, Asbel."

What was he supposed to say, now? He felt like this would be easier without quite so much wine...but actually, maybe it would be harder. Regardless, the chance to respond was taken from him when Richard's indecently soft hand cupped his cheek. He turned his head, catching Richard's unique amber eyes with his own.

Asbel had married Cheria, and moreover, had been _happy_ married to her, but that did not mean he had never imagined what kissing Richard would be like. It had died down as he grew older, especially after his proposal and marriage, but every once in a while, he had seen the man on television, or in the paper, and the thought had crept in unbidden, but easily been shoved away.

...now, though, that thought shoved all _other_ thoughts away. The expression on Richard's face was indescribable as Asbel scanned it. He looked...intent was probably the most accurate word. Before Asbel could think more on the matter, however, Richard leaned in and hot breath ghosted over his lips. He did not pull away, and after the briefest of moments, that felt both like an eternity and like no time at all, soft, warm lips pressed against his.

That was the only signal Asbel needed, and then he was kissing back greedily, years of fantasy coalescing in this single moment in time. He opened his mouth, eagerly meeting Richard's tongue with his own. Hands came up to grip his hair, and Asbel found that his own hands were tangled in Richard's silky strands.

Kissing Richard was, truthfully, not the only thing he had at least given _some_ thought to throughout puberty, and when the blond began pushing him down, pressing him against the seat, Asbel went without complaint. The blond's kisses were aggressive, possessive..._hungry_, and Asbel did the best he could to meet that fervour.

When Richard pulled away, lips damp and swollen, eyes dark with lust, Asbel could do nothing but stare back at him, panting heavily. After a moment, Richard swallowed.

"I...suppose there is no point in...asking, now." Richard pulled a face, and Asbel looked up, concerned. "No, that...did not come out correctly. I meant, judging by your response, the answer is yes." Richard shook his head. "No, that is..."

Asbel leaned up and kissed him again. He thought he understood what Richard was getting at, and even if he did not...this was better than talking.

The kiss was eagerly returned after barely a moment's hesitation. Richard leaned over him, one arm supporting his weight and the other combing through Asbel's hair. Asbel's own hands stayed tangled in Richard's locks, wanting to venture further, but at the same time, too nervous to.

Eventually, Richard broke the kiss, moving down his jaw and neck. Asbel tilted his head back willingly, invitingly, letting out soft, breathy moans under the attention of Richard's tongue.

"Asbel..."

The sound of his name, whispered by Richard against his damp skin, drew a more audible moan out of Asbel, his hands leaving Richard's hair and sliding down his back.

"Asbel, may...may I?"

He did not stop to think, only nodded. Warm fingers immediately set to work on his shirt, releasing the buttons with deft skillfulness. Those same soft fingers ran over his chest, once it was exposed, brushing deftly through the scattering of hairs.

Asbel shivered under his touch, moving his own hands to undo the buttons on Richard's blazer, slipping it off his shoulders. Uncertain what to do with the far too expensive jacket, he hesitated until Richard took it from him and tossed it onto the seat across from them.

Richard sat up, then, tugging his tie loose and tossing that aside, too. At a gesture from Richard, Asbel shed his own shirt, passing it over to be tossed aside, also. Then Richard was back on him, mouth and tongue tracing his torso. He let out an audible gasp when warm lips closed around his nipple, sucking.

"Ri-Richard...!" he breathed, arching his back into the attention. This was good, it was...better than good.

"Asbel, have you done this before?"

Confused, he asked, "What?"

"Sex."

Blinking, he raised one eyebrow. "...uh, Richard, Sophie...?" he reminded with a blush.

"With a man," the blond clarified calmly.

"O-oh, right. No, I...haven't. No." Though he had _thought_ about it, certainly, and even looked into it. Just a little.

Richard met his eyes for a long moment, then nodded. "I will go slowly."

"Okay, Richard," he said, slightly breathless as he leaned in to kiss him once more.

* * *

Here thur be sex. Full scene available on AO3

* * *

"That was..."

"I hope I did not overstep myself, Asbel. I..."

"No, Richard. Don't worry about it. I wanted it, too," he said emphatically. He had wanted it for a long time, even.

Richard's eyes were impossible to read as the blond stared at him, a little less Richard, and a little more of the closed off young man the police hated, present in his gaze. What had happened to flip that switch, he had no idea. It had seemed to Asbel that things were going...very well, but now...

Then Richard blinked, the moment faded, and the blond smiled slightly. "I suppose this...goes a little beyond friendship."

"I guess we broke that third term," Asbel said with an awkward chuckle, scratching the back of his head.

"Hardly. In light of this…development, I believe it only becomes more important."

Well, that stung a bit. However, he supposed Richard might have a point. He just...did not want it to make sense. But it _was_ for the best. Of course it was.

"Yeah, of course. You're right," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Richard paused, saying nothing and just _watching_ him. He met the look awkwardly, uncertain what else to say.

Richard leaned in, hot breath ghosting over Asbel's ear. "...we would not want the press to learn that the hero cop is being fucked by the big bad criminal, now would we?"

Asbel's face heated up instantly, his eyes widening. Richard did not wait for a response, however, instead going to the window to speak to Malik.

Malik.

Malik...

His face reddened even more, horror creeping into him. Malik...knew exactly what they had just done. Who knew what he had _seen_, and he must have _heard_...!

He sat down, face buried in his hands. Oh, sweet spirits...

"We will drop you off at the bar," Richard said, turning back to him, "where a cab will pick you up and take you home. Does tha—Asbel? Are you well?"

He blushed further. "How much did he...?" he asked, swallowing.

"Malik? I assure you, Asbel, he does not care."

That was not reassuring. Still, he nodded. "That...will be fine, Richard. When-?"

"I will contact you. Thank you for coming along tonight, Asbel. It was...enjoyable."

Asbel chuckled. "It won't kill you to admit you had fun," he teased gently. When Richard did not share his amusement, however, the smile slipped from Asbel's face. "Erm, well...thank you for showing me all that. It was a good night."

Their parting was no less awkward, Richard seemingly forgetting how to be himself once more. Not long after, Asbel slipped into a dark, silent house and collapsed into bed. He had to be up far too soon, so he would sleep while he could.

...troubled dreams and all.


End file.
